


I think I'll eat your heart.

by Cherrycolatree



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal lecter questions his morals, M/M, Margot is a vampire, Possessive Hannibal Lecter, Sassy Will Graham, Vampire Hunter Hannibal lecter, Vampire Will Graham, Will has a cajun accent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26246716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherrycolatree/pseuds/Cherrycolatree
Summary: Will Graham was born the day Margot Verger turned him for her own safety and companionship in 1923. The two dominated their own private corner of the world with the grace and elegance Margot said was expected of Vampires. Born and raised in the bayous of Louisiana, Will Graham makes for one tough, bitchy bloodsucker.Hannibal Lecter was born the day a filthy vampire drained the life from his sister Mischa in 1972. Cold, calculated, and determined, he swore to rid the earth of the vile creatures. Moving all across Europe and the United States to do so, always learning more about the creatures he sees as less than human.When he ends up sticking a southern socialite in a cage, the vampire challenges everything he's come to expect from them. And Will just thinks he's a fancy couyon.
Relationships: Alana Bloom/Margot Verger, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 27
Kudos: 200





	1. Life's for the living

Will felt like vomiting, yelling, and kicking someone's head in all at once. Preferably the head of that vampire hunter with the stupid plastic onesie. In all his 123 years on this planet, he’d never met a more pretentious, annoying, attractive bastard. Will wasn't sure how many days he’d been trapped in the polished, serial-killer-esc basement, caged like an animal. He just knew he was starving, and that he could hear the heartbeat of the vampire hunter two floors up, slow and steady like always. Margot must be going crazy by now. His goddess, the vampire who gave him the gift of life everlasting almost a century ago now. He returned the favor by becoming her lap dog, murdering her brother when asked without question. She took care of him, and would no doubt be on the warpath to find her dear friend. 

Will tried to focus on her image rather than the unbearable sound of rushing blood descending another level. He imagined her flowing brown hair, her pale skin, and black fingernails. But the blood kept getting louder, coming down the stairs again, pumping, pounding, slow, steady. He pressed his hands to his ears and gritted his teeth to stop his fangs from bearing on reflex. When the vampire hunter finally stood in front of his prison, he was wearing a suit, just without the suit jacket. In the dim lighting, Will could see pinks and blacks, but with fuzzy vision, the details were lost on him. 

“By now, your bloodlust will be near consuming you I’m sure,” The hunter spoke, his arms primly held behind his back. Will just groaned. 

“You are weak, helpless, and hungry,” He stated plainly and will could practically feel his smirk as he spoke. With every once of contempt and venom he could muster, he flopped his head to the side to stare the hunter in the face. Then, with a tired laugh, he drawled: “And what of it, cher?” The first words he had spoken for the better part of at least a week, the came out rough, but with a playful bite to them. If Will was going to be tortured, he’d have some fun with it goddamnit. The other man made no remark at this and continued with his little spiel. 

“I am in need of more information regarding your kind. Answer my questions, and you’ll get a pint of blood in return.” such confidence suggested that he had made this kind of bargain before with other, lesser vampires than Will. No doubt the beastly things agreed in an instant and fed him all the information he asked for. But Will wasn’t like them. If there was one thing Margot taught him, it was elegance and pride. If you bow to the will of your enemies, you are no more than a pet. Will, was better than the hunter above him, better than all the snot-nosed feral vampires he’d brought here before him, and he was going to prove it. 

“Is it your blood?” He breathed in heavily through his nose, noting the silence from the other side of the cage and the side-step the hunter took. Surprised. It took every ounce of restraint he had to not smile. 

“No,” The voice came after recovery, “It’s O-negative, very palatable to your kind. It’s just upstairs and when you-” Will cut him off, kicking the cage for extra effect. 

“If it ain’t yours… I don’ want it. You wanna feed me that blood drive bullshit when you’re gonna kill me anyway? No, cher. No deal.” He spat, then turned back around in his cage, curling up like he’s about to go back to sleep. More uneasy steps behind him, he could hear the gears in the hunter’s head turning, then, a just barely audible breath that Will decided was a smile. Then he heard the hunter’s footsteps echo through the basement, and back up the stairs. He only hoped he could keep up this little game for long enough so that Margot could find him. 

As time passed, He wondered if the other man was simply prepping to murder him upstairs. Whatever happened, Will was happy with his life, so it hardly mattered. He never had a mate, but he had never wanted one. The desire vampires had to find their “eternal” mate was what always led to violent, unhinged newborns. Not enough of his kind knew the traditions of finding a human partner that was compatible with them. Often times what happened was some stupid vampire would turn every single person they were dating without testing them properly, and then end up with a nest full of jealous, vengeful newborns. 

Traditions, as Margot taught him, were everything to real vampire society. Without them, they’re as bad as humans. In the cold dark of his cage, Will smiled as he recalled the only time in his life he ever performed the ritual. A vampire knows what blood tastes like- and knows that every drop from every person tastes different. Wills blood was sweet, like raspberries and honeycomb. He still remembered how much he was shaking when his sweet greaser boyfriend wrapped his lips around his fresh cut. The young man recoiled, he tasted only bitterness and metallic.   
A human that was compatible with a vampire would be able to taste the vampire’s blood like a fine wine. 

Will was crushed when his love couldn’t know the true taste behind the cold and bitter. Never again has he bothered to get tangled up with humans. Margot herself had only just found her human companion, and she had been alive a great deal longer than Will. Alana Bloom was able to taste every once of orange blossom and licorice in Margot’s blood. And oh how Margot cried. The two were due to marry in two months, and Alana was to be turned on their wedding night. It sucked to think he would be Margot’s best man like they had oh so carefully planned (And color-coordinated.) 

Just as he started to feel sorry for himself, he could hear the posh meat sack coming down the stairs again and he glanced behind him. The hunter walked up to the cage just as he had before, looking down at Will snuggled into the concrete like it was the finest satin money could buy. 

“As requested,” He said cautiously, holding an unlabeled bag of blood towards the cage. Will didn’t budge, sighing in a bored kind of way. 

“I’ve been smelling nothin’ but your blood for days on end, I’ll be able to tell if it ain’t yours..” After making his statement, he rose slowly to a sitting position, taking the time to cross his legs thoughtfully before extending his hand towards the bars.  
“Of course,” He could hear the hunters smile in his words again, and heard him hesitate. Deciding if he can trust me with the blood before his information. Will’s hand didn’t budge, he patiently waited for his half of the bargain. After another moment of calculation, the bag of blood was pushed through the bars and placed politely in his hand. Very trusting. Will noted the way the hunter pushed his hand through the bars containing a vampire on the edge of a frenzy. Will’s self-restraint was, as always, impeccable. 

He opened the spout of the blood bag with his teeth, then simply breathed in. It was the hunter’s blood alright. A point to Will. Hiding a smile, he drank the blood with elegance, once again attempting to demonstrate to the couyon in front of him that Will wasn’t just some feral newborn.   
Relief flooded to each one of his limbs as he consumed. The hunter had the most delectable blood he’d ever had the pleasure of drinking. Mulled whiskey and chocolate danced near the back of his pallet and he suppressed what would’ve been an embarrassing moan. 

He could hear the sound of a metal chair being pushed across the concrete, and when he finally opened his eyes, before him sat the hunter, legs crossed, notebook and pen in hand. He looked pleased in an odd kind of way, like he was hiding something behind those dark eyes of his. 

“Now then William, let us begin”


	2. Corrupted Blood

Will was content to not respond unless a question was asked, nursing his blood bag for as long as possible to try and trick his bloodlust. He could have easily cleared two people’s worth of blood in five minutes with how hungry he was, but the pint of hunter blood would be enough to keep him from going mad. He was much more likely to go insane from the lack of grooming he’s been allowed. There was little more than a toilet and some toilet paper in the corner of his cramped cage, he hadn’t even been allowed a change of clothes. His button-down shirt held rusted blood stains from the night he had been whacked over the head. It takes quite a lot to kill a vampire- but hardly more than a crowbar to wipe them out for a few hours apparently. 

The oxfords that Margot bought him for his birthday in 1987 had been missing from his feet when he woke up, and honestly, if being knocked out and put in a cage hadn’t frustrated him before, that certainly did. The most offensive thing of all though was the lack of bed. There’s this stigma that vampires sleep in coffins, but Will would be damned if he slept in less than a king size with Egyptian cotton sheets. Perhaps his life with Margot had made him soft. 

“You are interesting to me, Will. Other vampires in your situation would not have demanded something other than what I was offering... What makes you unique?” The hunter’s voice echoed through the basement, it was like nails on a chalkboard to wills ears. Could that bastard not speak without being insulting. Will scoffs, shaking his head as he takes the final gulp of his meal, passing his tongue over his fangs and teeth to ensure he gets every drop. 

“I don’ find you that interesting.” Will sets the empty bag on the ground next to him. 

“Have I offended you?” The hunter spoke with such false politeness in his voice. It reminded him of Mason. A squirming, pathetic thing. No, the hunter was nothing like mason, he simply spoke like him. 

“You picked up them newborn bastards then. I’m the rule- not the exception, cher.” Will could see something change in the other man’s eyes at that. The dark amber pools flickered with something akin to doubt- like he couldn’t bring himself to believe that there were other vampires like Will. 

“Newborns or younger vampires without the proper teacher will just wander the earth like somethin’ outta fucking lost boys. No restraint. No control. Create problems for all of us. You ever tried having a secret society where one of the assholes jus’ keeps posting signs like it's some sorta high school club? Don’t work like that.” Will decided to end his answer there. He could probably go on and on about how vampires had laws, they had a government, and all the annoying little nuances that go along with it, but he wasn’t one to betray his own kind. 

The hunter wrote something down, tilting his head in a way that exposed the definition of his neck. He swallowed, and Will watched his adam’s apple bob. He found himself daydreaming about ripping it out with his teeth. Oh, how the blood would spray, how it would drain from his defined body onto Wills slender frame. He would paint a portrait with it, bathe in it, relish in the divine flavor of the dying human under his grasp. A fantasy that once more almost pushed a smile onto his features, but he kept his expression stiff. 

“You mean to say that vampires are no different than humans?” amusement can be heard in the hunter’s voice. Will shook his head,

“No. No, I’m saying the worst of my kind are no different than humans.” Will let the smile finally creep onto his face, catching the humans eye for no more than a moment. Will believed this statement fully. Newborns are like lost children, ruled by emotions and passion rather than logic and reason. They have to have the human taught out of them. They have the blood, but they do not have the heart. He closed his eyes, fondly remembering Margot’s voice in his mind palace.   
****  
“If you ever want to consider yourself a vampire, you better start acting like one!” She snapped at Will. He jumped where he sat on the end of her bed, caked in blood, and reeked of wet dog. He didn’t say anything back, it would be pointless to argue with her, especially since he knew she was right. He had only been undead for about a year and a half and there were still years of grueling discipline ahead. 

“I’m sorry…” He whispered instead, entirely sincere. 

“Explain yourself to me. Tell me why I’ve had to help you dispose of yet another body- please, explain to me why you’ve jeopardized our safety and lost your temper, AGAIN!” She faced him then, and Will always found it hard to breathe when she looked at him like that. Her anger blossomed into the air around her, he could feel it lashing him in the face. She commanded respect and obedience from him, and he gave it whenever he could. He messed up, and he felt nothing but guilt. 

“He… He was kickin’ his dog… He- always kicked his dog…”He breathed, staring at the floor. Will's vision started to blur with tears, and he looked down at his stained hands. He killed a man because he kicked his dog. Margot seemed like she had something else to say, another remark to make, something else to scold him about. She didn’t though. She just sighed, and then spoke as if she was in some other world. 

“You poor newborns and your feelings.” He felt the bed dip beside him, then the soft joy of her lips against his cheek. He didn’t sob or beg forgiveness, and she didn’t offer words of comfort or a gentle hug. The pair just sat at the end of her bed for what felt like days, a gentle buzz of regularity stabilized them both. Margot eventually took Will’s hand and brought him to the bathroom to get cleaned up and changed. She never spoke about the topic again. 

****  
“I can assure you, I’ve met many vampires. They all lack a certain air to them. They lack humanity and grace. To say that vampires are more refined than humans would be a falsehood, at best.” Will groaned as the hunter pulled him back to reality with his stupid human opinions. He felt bored with the conversation. He wanted nothing more than to watch the life drain from the vampire hunter’s eyes. But then that would be too kind. No. Will wanted to corrupt his human spirit. Will wanted to grip his throat in his hands and force him to swallow Wills blood down by the mouthful. Will wanted to turn him. 

“Wha’s your name?” He asked rather than respond to the ignorant statement. He pulled his legs up to his chest, laying his head on his knees to feel more comfortable under the hunter’s steady gaze. Yes, he would create something beautiful with this man, with this-

“ Doctor Hannibal Lecter,” The hunter didn’t miss a beat, though quirked his head like the question once again surprised him. Will would create something dark and beautiful with this Hannibal Lecter. He would show him what it’s like to be something he hated. 

“Have you ever killed a human, Hannibal?” He purred, the question rolled off of his tongue easily and tumbled into the doctors lap where it sat for almost a full minute. 

“No, and I have no intention of doing so anytime soon. I am not like you, we are fundamentally different. I get all the pleasure I want from killing your kind.” Will almost snorts at this, shaking his head a bit. He could imagine a Newborn Hannibal Lecter drinking down every single blood bag he owned, raiding hospitals, going mad with guilt and blood lust until it consumed him. 

“There is nothin’ better, than feeling the life drain from a body...From the shell of some rotten human, some lowlife. They taste better when there’s some fear in them still” and after saying that, Will could smell the darkness rising in Hannibal Lecter’s blood. He could see the flash of longing in his eyes. There was something deep down in him that desired to end a human life, to snuff it out with his own hands. Will knew blood lust when he saw it. And he was determined to help him along. 

For the next hour, Will answered each one of Hannibal's questions about vampires and himself, leaving out only information that could get someone else killed. Then upstairs the bastard doctor went to sleep in his big soft bed while Will was left to freeze on the concrete floor of his cell. The following morning he heard the hunter’s heartbeat leave the house, and it got quieter and quieter until he was finally gifted silence. Hannibal had left his home for some reason. 

Sitting in the dark, one begins to not notice the passing of time. Will was simply very out of it for most of the day until something had him to his feet in an instant. A scent- a familiar scent. The glorious scent of orange blossoms in the sun. He could smell Margot. His goddess was close, very close, and she was on her way to rescue her loyal lap dog. He walked circles around his cage like a bat out of hell, anxiously awaiting her arrival. It came with a very loud and dramatic crashing on the top floor. 

Will heard her heartbeat, smelled her blood, and was revived by her voice.

“Will! Will? Damnit where are you!” Her voice was quiet, muffled by the layers of the house. 

“I’m down here! Margot! In the basement!” He gripped the bars of his cage as if he’d be able to break them apart now that she was near. She came running down the basement steps in a moment, flying to the prison that tapped him. Anger and worry flashed in her eyes and she /ripped/ the door from its hinges. When she ran into him and scooped him up in her arms like he was her long lost child, he felt the happiest he had in the last fifty years at least. 

“I knew you’d find me,” He breathed into her beautiful curls. His weak hands clasped around her waist and shoulders, near trembling with hunger and emotion.

His teacher had come to collect him like she always did. Careful and dedicated, she had him fed with the blood bags found in the fridge and then helped him plan his wicked revenge plot in Hannibal Lecter’s living room.

****

No matter what the vampire said, Hannibal knew he was much different than the rest of his kind. He was more attractive to start, in an aesthetically pleasing sort of way. Dark curls contrast against pale skin, the blood ( _Hannibal’s blood_ ), on his lips made for a gorgeous red. He almost regretted not talking to him sooner, and just nearly, in some corner of his mind, regretted capturing him at all. The words flowed from the vampire’s lips like honey, Hannibal could watch the way his mind worked through the bars for an eternity. A beautiful mind, corrupted by vampiric blood. 

He opened his front door and stepped into his warm house from the bitter winter outside. It shouldn’t have been so warm though- Hannibal put the fire out before he left this afternoon. Yet when he walked into his living area, one was blazing away not five feet from him. He scanned the room, already on his guard. Had someone broken in? Perhaps the vampire managed to escape his cell? Whatever it was, their intrusion on his home was not welcomed, nor appreciated. 

He grabbed a poker from the mantel and set the bag he had been carrying down the seat of his armchair. If the vampire had gotten out he would have surely found the blood in his home and gained his strength by now. Hannibal was a blitz predator- if there was a well-fed vampire stalking around the dark of his home- the most he could do was go down like a warrior in battle. Silently, he removed his shoes to make his footfall lighter in the settled home. He checked the kitchen first and found a /pile/ of empty blood bags politely thrown away in the bin. After clearing the area he took a kitchen knife into his other hand, not bothering to check the basement. It would certainly be the last place Will would want to be. 

The familiarity of the name on his mind startled him slightly. He never bothered to think of his house guests as anything more than vampires. The young man had most certainly weaseled his way into Hannibal’s thoughts. As he made his way back towards the living room he found himself once again recalling the artistic dip of Will’s collarbones, and how the stubble upon his cheek only brought more definition to his face. He crept up the stairs, quiet as a cat. He began to hear Waltz music- a tune he was shockingly unfamiliar with. It was dark and commanded a dance between those at war. 

_Follow me- dance with me, I take you as my own_ it called to him. Hannibal could almost see the ballroom the waltz would play in. In his mind, he saw the beautiful vampires Will had described. The way they moved across the floor would send chills down one's spine. The decadence they brought with them, human blood in wine glasses, and yet humans seen on the arms of vampires as their dance partner for the evening. The world Will lived in was calling to him at the end of the hall. He stepped less lightly, with less caution. If his death was inevitable, why bother waiting for it to come to him. 

The lights of his bedroom were on, the music came from the other side. Hannibal held his breath and reached out to slowly turn the knob. As the light poured onto his face, he glanced towards the right side of the room. In front of the full-sized mirror stood Will, he was swaying gently to the sound of the choir. Hannibal took notice that he smelled less of sweat and musty basement. Will smelled like _him._ He had showered in his bedroom and was buttoning one of Hannibal's vests around his torso. This made Hannibal's mouth twinge upwards in the corners, hardly a smile, but the ghost of one. 

“It’s considered rude to borrow things without asking,” He expressed cooly, gliding towards the center of the room in order to be seen by Will in the mirror. The Vampire smiled, fangs bared in a heinously alluring way.

“It's also rude to kidnap people, cher,” Will replied, then ran his hand through his drying curls. 

“I must admit,” Hannibal stated, taking another step towards the other man. 

“I don't know if I'm impressed you got out, or rather, if I’m confused as to why you didn't run,” Again came Will’s smile, wicked, and oh so gorgeous.

“Why would I run? I haven't retired the favor yet,” He turned to face Hannibal, his eyes caught his own, before flickering to the corner behind him. Hannibal knew what that meant. It meant an ambush that he was not prepared for. It meant that Will was certain that the image of him dressed in Hannibal's clothes would be enough to distract the hunter from fully surveying the room. Most importantly though, it meant that Hannibal was indeed, fucked.

The blow to the back of his head and the inky black that took over his vision following it had come without warning and sent Hannibal to the floor of his bedroom in mere seconds.   
****  
He heard Will’s voice before he could see him. 

“-One of the strongest we’ve seen in a century, I’m sure of it,” It sounded like it came through a speaker from far away. He felt like he was lying on something cold, and stiff. When he finally managed to pry his eyes opened he was staring at his dining room ceiling. A surge of pain came through his head and he winced. He turned his head and found himself face to face with the striking image of a woman. She was the meaning of the word grace if he had ever seen it, Will’s perfect counterpart in beauty and bite. 

“Darling, He’s awake,” She purred, looking across Hannibal's form with evil in her gaze. He then felt the bindings on his wrist and legs, strapping him down to his own dining room table as if he was the meal. Did they intend to feast on him here? 

“Ah… Jus’ what we've been watin’ for,” Hannibal still hadn't tried to find will with his eyes, and then he didn't have to. He felt the vampires weight on his hips, and then his ethereal image came into view above him. Pale, the light poured from behind him, silhouetting his delicate curls perfectly. _A beautiful image to die to_

“Go ahead Margot, stick him.” The evil smile once again tugged the corners of Will’s lips upward. His hands were on either side of Hannibal's head, his hair was nearly brushing his nose. Then he felt it, the unmistakable pinch of an IV being inserted into his arm. It felt like syrup was being pumped through his veins, making his heart work overtime on circulating it. When he tilted his head to see, the beautiful woman was placing a blood bag onto an IV wrack. It suddenly became apparent to him that these two didn't intend on eating him, they meant to turn him. 

“Typically, turning is an intimate process, Hannibal,” Will ran a hand through the hunter's hair, humming as he did so. 

“The one being turned has to drink the blood of a vampire- indulge for the first time… And IV can be used though- hell, it just has to get in you somehow,” The wicked little thing laughed. Hannibal found himself unable to speak, his mind was still in a daze from the blow, and the words wouldn't leave his throat. He decided on a different way to get his displeasure across. He flung his head upward to collide with Will’s face, a hollow thunk rattled through his head. Will let out a cry that sounded more like a hearty laugh, then with vigor, he clamped his hands around Hannibal's neck and _squeezed_.

The gorgeous image of a beast hung over him, eyes wild, fangs bared. The vampire tilted his head back, and let the blood now pouring from his nose fall onto Hannibal's face. The thick red leaked between his teeth and painted his tongue. With pupils blown wide, he struggled again. 

“Abashed, the devil stood and felt how /awful/ goodness is” Will drawled. The taste of summertime in Italy settled onto Hannibal's pallet. The blood of the vampire was sweet and forgiving. As more of it dripped into Hannibal's mouth he found himself craving it, desiring the blood and the body it came from. The body of the vampire who was forcing him to become a demon of his own design. Hannibal's mind was swarmed, he saw his life in Will's eyes, and just as he was beginning to lose consciousness once again, one more thought passed through his mind.   
_And saw Virtue in her shape how lovely: and pined his loss_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm blown away by the love my short little chapter has gotten already! You guys are amazing and seriously make me want to continue working on this for as long as I can. I adore you all!  
> Check out the illustration I did for this chapter on my twitter!  
> -ZY  
> https://twitter.com/Rasberrycolapop/status/1302130188277354496?s=19


	3. Moderation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just a small update! A short chapter! I'm blown away by the love and I really want to keep this going, but I also just started a new job and I'm still struggling to organize my time, I hope you enjoy! Leave comments about what you think or what you'd like to see!

Hannibal looked out and saw Mischa, her eyes and body lifeless on the ground. The wicked vampire was hunched over her, still feeding on her frail body. The beast was set on drinking every ounce of her innocent blood. Hannibal was young again, his body was thin and frail. The muscle and strength he had grown accustomed to were gone. He felt weak, and helpless to rescue his sister, the same as he felt decades before.

The floor around them was fluid, black, and reflecting, the room was pitch, and seemed as though it could go on for an eternity. Hannibal’s mouth opened to scream or yell and his libs struggled to move forward. Everything in him wanted to move forward, to maim the devil over his sister. He wanted to stop the desecration on her lifeless body and send the demon back to hell where it belonged. For all his efforts, he could only produce a meek sound, his hands clenched at his sides. 

“S-... Stop,” It came out as more of a broken statement than a demand, and he could feel the unfamiliar warmth of tears beading in his eyes then trailing down his soft cheeks. The obscene sound of the vampire sucking the blood from his sister almost made him wretch as he continued to watch, rooted to the liquid floor. The beast chuckled and rose from his younger sister. He wore a pristine suit and stylish shoes that Hannibal recognized.

Hannibal stood, a broken child with trembling hands and nothing but fear for his life filling his veins as the vampire turned to face him, blood covering his form. The beast, the vile creature, the bastard that rose from hell with the intention of stealing Hannibal’s sister. The beast was himself. In horror, he looked upon his own body covered in the blood of his kin. Large fangs and a cold- knowing smile on his face. 

Ice filled his veins, his ears rumbled with the sound of rushing water and his eyes snapped open. Hannibal hadn’t had a nightmare in decades. He sat upright on his dining room table, no longer strapped down to it, no IV in his arm. Aside from his presence on the table, the room was perfectly orderly, not a single uninvited guest in sight. His head spun, and his vision blurred as h tried to recall everything that had happened. The last thing he remembered was the image of beauty and grace above him, the divine beast with his hands around Hannibal’s throat. He remembered a quote from paradise lost, and the feeling of the vampire’s blood mixing with his and dripping into his mouth. Then finally he remembered the undeniable pleasure, the overwhelming _desire_ he felt for the vampire that was corrupting him. 

With a shaky breath, Hannibal touched his fingers to his mouth to find there were a few drops of the vampires dried blood there, and in an instant, his tongue darted out of his mouth to greedily savor the remains Will left behind. The raspberry honey flavor once again overwhelmed his other sensations. He swung his legs to the edge of the table and moved to stand. Hannibal was calm and composed as the hunger began to set in. The feral, beautiful vampire had created a new monster within Hannibal.

He took a shower first, washing the blood from his hair and the sweat from his skin. He could hear Will’s voice as if the man was there with him. 

“I know you’re hungry, cher… ‘ow long are you gunna be able to ignore that?” His raspy tone seemed to almost echo through the bathroom over the sound of the shower. The accent that Hannibal had once found to be a bit archaic was now smooth and pleasing to his ears. He glanced around, nearly expecting the vampire to be hiding in some corner of the room. Then he realized he had been _hoping_ that Will was still there in his home, that Will had stayed to torture his mind some more. He turned off the shower and stepped out, then looked at himself in the mirror. 

He didn’t look any different, not that he expected to. He didn’t know what he expected. It was like his mind had been corrupted alongside his blood. The fantasies of killing vampires still remained, but they began to mix with dark thoughts of feasting upon human flesh. Hannibal opened his mouth, and with a bit of prodding was able to coax one of his new fangs out from their spot embedded in his gums. It took him only a second or two of inspection to determine the class of vampire he had become. He had spent years hunting and studying fang type and eye iridescence. In fact, he could almost tell at first glance alone. Hannibal was a _Stalker Vampire_. 

The Stalker Vampire type had three sets of slender fangs, with venom more potent than any other class of vamp. They gained agility and focus rather than the brute strength or frenzy of some. His creator, Will, was a Stalker himself. They favor blitz attacks and sedation with venom for their kills typically. But Will was different. Hannibal thought more about this as he dried himself off. He had inspected Wills kill sights- they were almost human in a way. Will had earned the title of the Chesapeake Ripper in the community. The corpses he left behind almost held an air of beauty to them. His victims were painted and posed, they were mutilated and brought to divinity by his hand while also providing him with the blood he needed to survive. 

Hannibal got dressed in his grey and red squared suit. When looking at the crime scene photos he had nearly abandoned the idea that they could've been vampire killings. With Carson Nahn however, the blood was not drained as it had been in previous victims, and his tongue had been pulled out to form a necktie. Nahn was a physiatrist and a possible vampire that Hannibal himself was looking into. Of course, when the blood had not been removed from Nahn’s body he considered the possibilities as to why. And then it became quite clear. Nahn was murdered by another Vampire, possibly for hunting ground invasion or some other rude activity. With some backtracking and investigating, Hannibal had found Will. 

He was fully dressed, a new man, no longer human but still donned in his person suit as always.   
Just as he was about to construct a plan to find his pesky bayou vampire once again, there came a dreadfully loud knocking from downstairs. It was proceeded quickly with the scent of human blood, the sound of it beating, pumping, living. Hannibal took a moment to calm himself, gain his composure and keep his head and his control as he descended the stairs to find out who exactly thought it would be polite to pound away at his front door. As he drew closer to his front door he began to understand for the first time in his life how vampires lost control. The frenzy of hunger and bloodlust nearly made him shutter as he opened the front door. As he looked over the portly man standing just outside on his doorstep, his mind compared it to not eating anything for 6 months and then politely turning down a vegas style all you can eat buffet. Hannibal recognized the man as Mr.Homer, a door to door salesman that he’s had to turn away at least 4 times this week already. The man was huskey with round, blotchy cheeks and thinning blonde hair. He always called Hannibal “Mate” in a terrible British accent whenever trying to get him to switch his internet provider (Despite Hannibal mentioning on more than one occasion that he was Lithuanian.)

“How’s it hangin’ _mate_!” He laughed genuinely, leaning on the door frame with the intent to invade Hannibal’s space, to give the impression that they were “Friends”. Mr.Homer then started to prattle on about whatever nonsense he was set on selling to the other man this week. However, it was now even _more_ impossible for Hannibal to focus on his words. Usually, he could feign interest for about ten minutes and then send the man away with empty promises of buying another time, but now he couldn’t even comprehend the salesman’s English. The only sound that filled his ears was the rhythmic heartbeat deep in the other mans chest. 

Then he heard something else, behind his head, in his ear. He could feel slender fingers ghosting over his hips from behind and the phantom voice of his vampire. 

“How rude… Always rude, showin’ up unannounced, insulting you. You could eat him, cher. You _should_ eat him. You’re starvin’ and that blood is just pumpin’ away. Devour him ” He whispered, like the devil on Hannibal’s shoulder with no angel to counter it. He had never had hallucinations before, it was uncharted waters for him having a voice around that wasn’t his own. Whether this was a symptom of his recent turning or a break of the mind he couldn’t be sure. No matter whichever it was, he was finding it hard to resist Wills demands. He could feel his new fangs trying to escape, trying to bare and feed on the man in front of him. 

“Mr.Homer I’m very sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave as I am very busy at the moment,” He explained quickly, instantly going to shut and lock the door in the face of the delicious smelling human. As he tried to push it shut, however, the salesman put his hand up, keeping the door just barely open between them. 

“Now Dr. Lecter, I understand, really I do- but this is a once in a lifetime opportunity you have in front of you! You’d be a fool not to take it!” He grinned that cheesy, ugly grin he loved to plaster onto his features and Hannibal simply couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe that the pathetic human was so blatantly rude- that he’d ignore Hannibal’s dismissal of him and his product and instead try to keep the interaction going. He put his hand on hannibals front door. His lips twitched into a disapproving frown before curling back up into a polite smile. 

“You know, you’re absolutely right, Mr.Homer. Why don’t you come inside and we can discuss it over a glass of wine?” As the portly human walked passed him and into his home, he felt a rush of heat around his jaw and gums- a flush of venom perhaps. There was a change in him once again, a shift from protector to hunter, an understanding he never thought possible, and a pang of sticky sweet guilt that smelled like baklava and white wine. A part of him had been thrown away, destroyed, and rotted to the core by the blood of a beautiful vampire. Hannibal Lecter- Vampire Hunter was dead; and so was Mr.Homer. 

Hannibal took another shower, the blood on his skin had grown gooey and uncomfortable. It caked in his hair and stuck under his fingernails like paint.


	4. Vampire dogs?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a small update! I've been busy with work but I havent forgotten about this fic don't worry!

Will had been sitting in the window seat of his bedroom for the better part of an hour when Margot knocked on his door. He didnt look towards the door when she walked in, he simply continued to stare out onto the wet street below.   
“Did you manage to get any packing done? Or have you been pouting this whole time?” she asked, her arms crossed over her chest.   
“I don' see why we have to move,” He grumbled, finally tilting his head to meet her beautiful eyes.  
“What about you and Alana's weddin’? All your guests are here, in Baltimore,” as Margot had said, he was indeed pouting much like a child would. Margot gave him that patient look she almost entirely reserved for the younger vampire. Whenever she did that he couldn't help but be reminded of how much of a mother he truly saw her as. He was in fact an adult when she turned him, but grown was not an adjective one would've used for the young, human, Will Graham. 

“I let you have your revenge, Will. I helped you with your little game of phycological torture and irony, and now this is the cost of it,” She moved, sitting across from him in the window seat now. Will knew what she was doing- getting down on his level, attempting to get through to him better. He’d hate it if it didn't actually work most of the time. She just had a way of convincing him of things, of showing him how she considered each option before making the best decision for their little nest. 

Two vampires are rarely called a nest, but they called it as such- and Margot was the leader of their nest. She's always kept them safe, and she would continue to do so, despite Wills protests. 

“We’ve never had a problem with hunters, but this one was very good. So good I almost lost you,” She placed her hand on his bent knee, and he felt calmed. Still, he scoffed a bit, stubborn as he was. 

“And now you've just turned a dangerous hunter into a newborn. We’re not safe.” She sat back, and gestured for him to come to her and so he did. He shifted to his knees and settled himself in her arms, just nearly sat in her lap. She held his head to her shoulder and stroked her fingers through the mop of curls upon his head. Will always loved those gentle moments, where the woman who turned him allowed him to listen to the sound of her heartbeat, and be comforted by her familiar touch and soothing voice. 

“I know you dont want to leave him, Will. Even if you wont say it outloud. Turning is a very intimate process and youve never done it save for your little pack downstairs,” And Will couldnt help but laugh at that because Margot was, as always, very correct. Will has turned seven dogs over his 123 years alive. 

“I could care less about that dickhead,” He scoffed, tilting his head more towards the crook of her neck. 

“He kept me in that disgusting hole for a week and a half. If I see him again i'm going to rip his arm off and shove it up his ass,” there was a bitterness to his voice, and a hint of something that wasn't supposed to be there. He hadn't stopped thinking about his captor since he turned him. Will had been sitting in his window seat replaying the image of his own hands around the hunters throat over and over again. The feeling of him squirming under his grasp while his blood was being corrupted. It delighted him in a way nothing else ever had and that frustrated him. It was like his mind was at war with itself, the burning hatred and undeniable fascination combated and made his head spin. 

“All the more reason we need to move, he knows where we live I’m sure. Now… Are you packed or not?” Again she tutted in that motherly voice. It shouldn't have affected him so much, especially not since he had personally witnessed her massacre entire facilities of people before. Still, he relented. 

“I’ve been packed for a while now… I did as soon as you asked me to” He admitted, earning himself a soft laugh from his goddess above him. She sighed, pleased with her creation, and Will was happy. Margot had created other monsters before him, but none appreciated her gift, none loved her as much as he did. None of those wicked, vial things before him were worthy of her praise. They wouldn't dare to rid her of Mason Verger. They cowered at the head vampires' powers in both their own world and the human world. Will did not cower. Will killed him the moment his divine requested him to and she knew then that she had finally made the right decision. 

“Thats my boy,” She sighed, urging him to sit up again. He frowned at the loss of her touch but scooted back to the other side of the bench. 

“We leave in an hour, make sure your things and your dogs are downstairs,” She stood up then, straightening her clothes out. Without another word she left his room and shut the door behind her. Will sighed, letting out all the frustration he had been holding in. The sun was already hiding behind the other houses across the street, but it still lit up the sky with vibrant yellows and oranges. The sky always looked best after it rained. 

In creeped the images again, the raspy voice of the hunter, the painted picture of his face with Wills blood on it. The thoughts were intoxicating, they made his cheeks burn and his fists clench. He wanted to destroy something and nurture it at the same time. He took a deep breath, and finally rose from his seat to take his packed boxes downstairs into the foyer. 

Once all of his things were by the door he decided to take one more lap around the home before he got his dogs ready for the journey ahead. He and Margot had lived in Baltimore for two decades, keeping mostly to themselves and their own kind for the first 8 years or so. Only recently had they begun to slink into the human dramatics of the upper class. Will despised all of the stuffy galleries and opera houses that Margot took him to. The human dinner parties and the forced politeness of the whole thing. But still he went, never speaking a word, posing himself as Margots younger brother. Their home reflected this status, It was elegant and modern, with nearly a fireplace per room. 

No matter how long he lived in luxury with his creator he never grew used to it. The clothes, yes, but the environment still to this day felt out of place and odd to him. He found himself stopping at the biggest bathroom in the home just at the end of the hall on the top floor. With 45 minutes until they had to leave Will figured he had nothing to lose, shutting and locking the bathroom door behind him. The claw-foot tub was the oldest thing in this house other than its occupants, and Will often spent hours soaking in it when it suited him. With a heavy sigh he plugged the tub and turned on the water, facing the mirror once it began to fill. He stripped off the clothes that were too loose for him, as he had yet to change out of Doctor Lecters borrowed clothes. 

The shirt smelled most like the hunter, and Wills fingers lingered as he undid the buttons, focusing more on the scent than his task.   
"Fucking.. Hunter." He spat to himself, fumbling to get the shirt off once he realized how long he had just been standing there. When the tub was full with near scalding water he turned off the tap and sunk inside immediately. The water burned the scent of the newborn from his skin and soothed his limbs that ached from imprisonment. Before he knew it he was sinking his head under the water, blocking out any ambient sounds from the room. With no need for air Will stayed under the hot water with his thoughts until Margot came to get him. The rest of the evening he acted more undead than usual, dragging his feet, scoffing instead of talking, and he slept in the back of the van with his dogs on the way to their new home.


	5. Where you once laid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mini chapter! I do intend to continue this! I love this story and have so much planned, I promise updates will start picking up for real now! Thank you for all the love!

Hannibal ran his fingers over the edge of the tub still filled with water, cold by the time he got there. He breathed in, eyes dropping to the floor where his own clothes had been discarded. The scent of his creator was like a drug, and he slowly reached to grab his shirt from the tile. He brought it to his nose and greedily drank in the scent of Will. Never had he desired to take the life of a human, he considered it beneath him. This afternoon he was faced with the reality of his own mind. Hannibal had a natural bloodlust that he sated with killing vampires.

Not even an hour after he had been turned and he took his first human life. He took it with excitement and greed, drinking down every ounce, indulging in his own personal feast. Will had done more than turn him, he had changed him. He knew so little of the vampire and yet he felt such a need, such a desire. He wanted to lay the world at Wills feet, do anything asked of him, devote himself to the beautiful creature. In his mind, he knew how ridiculous it all sounded, and yet he simply couldn't keep himself away. 

Perhaps he planned to beg forgiveness, offer himself up, he didn't know. But when he arrived he was already too late. Will and his sister were gone, leaving only his own clothes behind. The scent of Will calmed the upset that had formed in his gut, it eased the pain of being left behind by his creator. 

“Miss me, cher?” Wills voice seemed to echo in the empty bathroom, the false image of him that Hannibal's brain seemed to conjure in desperation. He looked up, his eyes meeting with the icy blue of Wills. 

“It smells like you…” He grunted, knowing he shouldn't talk to hallucinations, but unable to keep silent in his presence- real or not. 

"You gunna find me like that? By my scent like a little hound dog?" Will laughed, and sat on the edge of the tub slightly. 

"A drop of blood on your lips and you become a whole new person… What did I tell ya?" Hannibal didn't reply, he just pressed his nose back into the shirt and took a deep breath in. He let the scent dull his senses, and he sought it out elsewhere in the house. Will was everywhere, all around him. His already impressive sense of smell had been increased tenfold, and Hannibal found Wills room with ease. He sighed in relief, surrounded and comforted by Wills presence in the room. He slipped off his shoes and first walked to the window seat, and knelt by it. 

"How much time do you think I spent here, cher?" The false voice echoed behind him once again. Hannibal sighed, and folded the shirt over his lap before he reached out to the decorative pillow. It was clearly older, it had old stains that had lazily been scrubbed at once and then forgotten. The fluff of it had once been stiff, but was now softy and deteriorated. 

"Any time you spent in your room, you spent it here," Hannibal breathed into the quiet of the room. He was just about to set the pillow back in its place when he looked down and noticed something. It was a book, a copy of "Sense and Sensibility". The pages were worn and yellow, from years of reading. He picked it up, turning it over carefully in his hands. The price on the back was $2.75, and he guessed it must've been printed and sold sometime in the 1960's. 

"Such a prized possession to leave behind," he muttered to himself. When he thumbed through the pages it became clear that this was a favorite of his creator, there were little notes and highlights all over the pages in different colored ink. It brought a smile to his face to find such an object, and the story itself was one he read often as a young man. Outside the sun was beginning to rise, so there would be no use leaving now. Of course it wouldn't kill him, but without something akin to SPF 2000, his skin would certainly burn very quickly. 

Hannibal rose up, and shrugged off his jacket. He laid it on the window seat and closed the blinds before he picked up the old book. He hadn't gone to Wills house with the intention of acting like goldilocks and sleeping in his bed, but he wasn't opposed to the Idea. He took off the rest of his clothes by the bed, leaving himself in his silk briefs. The bed was cold, and welcoming against his warm skin.

"Do you wish I was here with you?" Will asked, sitting cross legged on the bed next to him. Hannibal sighed, and just nodded a bit before he cracked open the book once again to view the story from a new perspective.

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually my very first fic! I really hope you like it, I plan on expanding and doing more with it if people like it! Also if this gets some love I'll start doing illustrations for each chapter! -ZY


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